The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Once mounted, Gergo handed him his hammer, and a short arquebus that went into a holster on his saddle. All the firearms were loaded. He didn’t want to know how much all of it weighed, but Kazmir danced about like a colt, sensing the coming action. He didn’t carry a lance since they were unlikely to run into tight formations. If they did, a wagon full of them traveled right behind his banner.

  The army moved, the hussars in its van. Barela hoped that if the hussars inside Atlona spotted them, they would come out right away. Besides, it was best to swoop down on Korma with cavalry.

  The sun rose behind them as they crested the ridge overlooking Atlona. The city lay dark and quiet, Korma’s camp spread out along its wall. They couldn’t outflank Korma, although the hussars would break to the left and try to squeeze him against the wall as the infantry pushed down from the east.

  Braeden urged Kazmir to a trot as the ground leveled out. There was still no sound from the camp. By now, they should have run into outposts. Braeden realized that Korma must have known they were coming. That would make it more interesting. He kept Kazmir at a steady trot, holding him back from galloping. The outer line of tents was now in clear view.

  There was a blast of fire and smoke in front of him. Muskets. Braeden urged Kazmir to a gallop, pulled out a pistol, fired into the smoke, let go the reins, and pulled out the other. Both pistols spent, he drew his saber, and waded into a squad of musketeers trying to reload.

  Lined up among the tents, they weren’t in proper formation. Still, he could see the rising sun glinting off the tips of pikes up ahead. Once he’d dealt with these fellows, he’d circle back for a lance and get more loaded pistols as well. The musketeers scattered, though one or two had a chance to draw their swords. They weren’t quick enough. Braeden slashed wildly, in a hurry to get back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Reno and a few other hussars working over the muskets on his right.

  He paused for a moment. “Fall back and get lances,” he shouted, pointing his saber at the gleaming helmets marching toward them. Reno nodded, cut down one more man, then wheeled around to join Braeden.

  As Braeden rode back, met the next rank of hussars coming forward. “Pike coming,” he shouted. “Lances.” Everyone turned back with him, but in good order. As they reached the wagons holding the lances, Braeden spotted Barela, also ahorse and speaking with Teodora.

  “Nothing better than a bloody saber to start your day, eh Terris?” He laughed, his teeth white under his black helmet.

  Braeden grinned. “Seems they were ready for us.”

  “Thought they might be. But no matter. You did just as I’d hoped. Their first rank of muskets is in confusion and we can meet their pike properly. And they are constrained by still being in camp. This will be over soon.”

  Braeden grabbed a lance from the cart. “Wonder how long before Novitny and the rest are on their way?” he asked Reno.

  “I expect they’re armoring up right now. Should be here soon.”

  Barela waved the infantry forward. The hussars would ride into the first rank of the enemy, and Barela’s muskets would follow. His pike had already engaged on the right.

  Braeden found his banner, already in good order. “Time to go. Maybe we’ll meet Novitny on the other side.”

  There was a great din from the other side of the camp, and Braeden could see occasional black wings fluttering beyond the square of pike. The Sanova Hussars inside the city had come out and were attacking. That made his job much easier. The pike were still in formation, but nervous, knowing the hussars were attacking their rear.

  Braeden charged before they could get their nerve back, and they scattered on the first try. He galloped straight through, his lance broken but still useful. He would let the rank behind him mop up while he connected with his comrades.

  He came up on the backs of both musket and pike fighting hard hand-to-hand with the hussars. The hussars had no lances, but were doing well enough.

  “Good morning, sir,” Franca said, while she used her hammer to stave in the helm of a man in front of her. His mouth sprayed blood, and he fell at her horse’s feet. Without pausing, she swung the hammer again, and caught a musketeer in the chin. He’d been trying to come up behind her and use the butt of his musket to unhorse her. Her instincts were perfect.

  “Took you long enough.” Novitny took down two pikemen with one slash of his saber.

  “I missed you too,” Braeden said, and it was true. He helped by shooting another pikeman as he circled around, holding a saber. Pike were not so used to hand-to-hand fighting, and these were unseasoned troops.

  “What’s the plan, sir?” Franca asked.

  “We regroup and do our best to outflank. Barela is coming down from the northeast.”

  “We can’t outflank,” Novitny said. “They’re strung out too far down the valley, all the way to the mountains.”

  “We know that. Some will get away, but very few. Any idea where Korma is?”

  “Probably in the thick of things. At least, he likes to talk about how he always is.”

  “All right, let’s go.”

  By now, Braeden’s troops had followed him, and the rest from Atlona had joined them. They’d lost a few, but surprise had been on their side. Even though Korma might have been aware there were hussars inside, he wouldn’t have known how many.

  There was no point in getting more lances now. Braeden hoped to find and engage the Marjatya Hussars. Before heading south, Braeden looked back. Barela’s squares were mowing over Korma’s. Discipline and experience always told.

  “Oh, that Barela.” Miro rode up to join them, blood dripping from his saber.

  “He knows what he’s about,” Braeden said, “and best of all, the empress listens to him, so it all goes off easy; no arguments. Who else was inside the city?”

  “Not many,” Novitny said. “Livilla ordered the city watch to stay inside. Otherwise, it’s less than a thousand regular infantry. They should be out here somewhere. They were as eager to get into it as we were. Where’s Ensden?”

  “Long story,” Braeden said, as they cantered along the edges of the camp. Most of the fighting was behind them, where Barela was attacking, but there were still troops ahead of them. Their orders were to cut down anyone they saw and prevent the retreat of as many as possible. As they curved around to the west, Braeden saw a familiar banner. It was Count Andarosz, taking his troops to the fight. Braeden let him go. With any luck, Karil would still have a father tonight.

  They were still on the edges of the camp when the tide turned. Braeden could have sworn he’d been out there no more than and hour, but the sun was high in the sky, and now he felt its heat. It had to be near noon. The smell of battle wafted over him too, and he hadn’t noticed the flies until now. The Marjatya Hussars thundered past, making for the river. They would probably escape, but Braeden wanted to make it difficult. “Stop them,” he ordered.

  They caught a fair few of them, and once the rest disappeared, there was fleeing infantry to chase. All the while, Braeden kept an eye out for Korma. If he could catch or kill him, the revolt in Marjatya would end today.

  Gwynneth

  Gwynneth sat in the pavilion and tried to compose herself.

  Arian walked right to her, sweeping her into his arms. “What is it darling?” he murmured into her ear. Perhaps he noticed her stiffening at his touch. She tried to disentangle herself. If she let it go further, she wouldn’t have the strength to tell him. He didn’t release her, but let her pull him down on the bench next to her.

  “We’ve been discovered,” she said.

  “That didn’t take long.” She wondered why he wasn’t more bothered. He was probably used to escaping out of bedroom windows when irate husbands came home. This was tame by comparison. “Who did it? If you punish them you’ll discourage others from telling tales.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We haven’t been discreet.”

  “So Kendryk knows?”

  “Not yet. We can keep him
from finding out, but we must end it now.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Who’s threatening you with this?”

  “Edric Maximus. He came to see me yesterday. If it’s not over in three days, he’ll tell Kendryk.” She didn’t tell him about the demand she leave as well.

  “The nerve of that man. He has no right.” Arian stood up and paced the floor. This was the angriest she’d ever seen him. “I can kill him if you like. That would solve several problems.”

  “Are you mad? Kendryk would stop everything. Not to mention, you can’t kill people because they inconvenience you.”

  “You’d be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  He couldn’t mean that. “Please don’t say those kinds of things.”

  “Why not? I only want to take care of you. Of us.” He sat down again and took her hands.

  “There is no us.” She pulled her hands away. “Edric Maximus is right. It needs to end now.” It helped that Arian had reacted so strangely. If he’d been sad, it would have been much harder.

  He took on a wounded expression. Perhaps she’d been premature. “What do you mean there is no us? You’re the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been in love like this. Please don’t say this was just a dalliance for you.”

  “Not a dalliance,” she said more softly. “But a mistake. It’s wrong and I should never have given in to you. I do not wish to hurt you, but this can’t go on.”

  “I don’t think you understand.” Arian’s eyes lost all their warmth.

  Gwynneth shivered and edged away.

  “You can’t just end this,” he went on. “Both of us are involved and both of us get to decide.”

  “It seems we disagree. Now what?”

  “Nothing. We carry on and if the maximus makes trouble, I’ll deal with him.”

  She hoped she could hide her rising unease. “Maximus or not, I must end this for my sake. I’m not the kind of woman who can do this.”

  “Are you sure? You do it rather well.”

  Her hand struck his face before she could stop herself. He caught and held it so tightly it hurt.

  “Let me go,” she said through clenched teeth, “and never insult me like that again.” It was a relief to let anger wash away her fear, at least for a moment.

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “Don’t play the virtuous little princess with me.”

  She struggled to free her hand, and he released it with a laugh, though his eyes still held a dangerous gleam.

  She scrambled to back as far away from him as she could. “Why are you being horrid? You say you care about me, but you’re doing every thing you can to make me miserable right now.”

  “I’m not through with you yet. Perhaps I never will be. You don’t believe me, but I have fallen in love with you, and I can’t bear the thought of being without you.”

  “I am very sorry.” Gwynneth tried to keep her voice even although her whole body shook. “It’s not like I don’t care about you at all. I do. But I can’t do this and be married to Kendryk.”

  “Then don’t be married to him.”

  “That’s impossible and you know it.”

  “Only because you can’t imagine not being a princess.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. I’ve made a mistake with you, but I love him.”

  “I suppose I can accept that, though I don’t like it. What I won’t accept is ending this now. It will end when it’s time for me to join your husband. But it continues until then.”

  “He’ll find out.” Tears started to Gwynneth’s eyes. She would do anything to keep Kendryk from learning about this.

  Arian shrugged. “What’s he going to do? He’ll be upset, although I’m sure he’ll forgive you, if the alternative is sending you away. If he were smart, he’d know it’s best not to expect much from a woman, even one like you. It’s a hard lesson, but one he must learn. Don’t worry about him too much. He’ll be away on campaign with plenty of distractions of all kinds. Who knows, maybe you doing this will make him feel free to indulge himself. No reason he shouldn’t have fun as well.”

  “I can’t believe how awful you are. I suppose I didn’t know you at all.”

  “You don’t. It’s not like we’ve spent all of this time in deep conversation. In any event, this continues until I say it stops.”

  “And if I don’t go along with this?” Her heart pounded wildly. If he could so coldly contemplate killing Landrus, what might he do to her?

  “I leave.” His eyes were hard again. “I’ll take my troops and never come back. What’s more, I’ll ride straight for Olvisya and offer my services to the empress. I’m sure she would be very grateful. Who knows, I might even meet Kendryk in battle someday. That would be poetic, wouldn’t it?”

  “You can’t be serious.” This possibility had never occurred to Gwynneth. “You’d be a traitor.”

  “No, I’d be changing employers. From one who hasn’t paid me at all to one who will pay me well.”

  Gwynneth wiped her eyes. “Tell me what Kendryk owes you and I will settle up right now.”

  He laughed and leaned back on the bench. “That’s not the payment I want. Now come here sweetheart, and stop crying. All will be well.”

  She was too frightened to resist. All she could hope for now was Ruso Faris’s arrival before Edric Maximus found out what was happening.

  Kendryk

  Kendryk worked his way along the border, garrisoning each fortress, but things looked no better than they had earlier. The situation was especially abysmal along the border with Sanova. There had been no threat from that direction in two hundred years and many fortifications had fallen into disrepair. In addition, the land was flat here, with no natural barriers.

  Kendryk was sitting down for an evening meal in another drafty castle when the tired messenger arrived. “Didn’t expect to see you this far east, Your Grace,” he said. “You’ve made good time.”

  “Not good enough.” Kendryk took the bag. He saw a few messages from Ruso Faris, who was marching from Zeelund with twenty thousand men. To Kendryk’s relief, they were getting closer, though he didn’t know what to do with them when they arrived.

  Then he spotted Gwynneth’s hand on a message and smiled. She wrote short notes daily sent in bundles. This one had “Very Important!” written on it in Linette’s messy scrawl. Kendryk opened it with a sense of dread. Good news was unlikely.

  “My agent in Melampis tells me that negotiations are nearing their conclusion,” Gwynneth wrote. “Ambassador Arceo has received instructions to make any concessions necessary to reach an agreement, even a temporary one. Teodora is desperate. She will give up the fortresses of Girosna and Lubardol in return for a two-year peace. It’s not long, but it’s enough to give her time to deal with Andor Korma and with you.

  “If all goes as planned, Ensden will need no more than a few hundred garrison troops at the frontier and can march on Atlona with force. If they succeed there, she can march into Kronland well before winter. I believe it’s important to meet her as far south as possible so you can get help from your aunt and keep the fight from Terragand. I love you so much and miss you desperately.”

  Kendryk looked up. This was bad news, but he’d half expected it. As proud and impetuous as Teodora might be, she understood that Zastwar was by far the biggest threat she faced. In her unfavorable position, major concessions made a great deal of sense.

  Kendryk’s grandfather had fought hard for those fortresses and sacrificed many Terragand soldiers in their taking. Still, it made no sense to keep them for sentimental reasons. It would be an unpopular decision, but Teodora never worried about that.

  He put the letter down and picked up the last one. It was from Landrus. He smiled. Perhaps he’d get more information gleaned from the Scrolls or something Landrus had missed before. But the letter was unnervingly short. “Please return to Birkenhof in all haste,” it said. “There is an important matter that concerns you which you must deal w
ith before you go anywhere else.” That was all. Kendryk shook his head. He couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  Kendryk called for his adjutant. “Send the word we are leaving for Birkenhof in the morning.”

  Kendryk had plenty of time to think on the long journey back to Birkenhof. The Zastwar treaty concerned him more than anything else. It was unlikely that Ensden would take back Atlona and then invade Kronland before Faris arrived, but recruitment had taken far longer than expected. Kendryk wondered if he should take Orland’s force south without delay while waiting for Faris to catch up.

  For the thousandth time, he wished Faris were here already. He knew that Arian and Gwynneth would counsel moving right away, no matter how unprepared he felt. He’d prefer to be backed by a cooler head.

  He also knew that Ensden’s large and professional force would make short work of Korma’s rabble. They would sustain little damage and be ready to march on Terragand in less than a month. He needed to write to his aunt in Oltena again and warn her of the coming crisis. She was still his most stalwart supporter in the south and would throw every possible obstacle in the empress’s path. It wouldn’t be enough. Her militia was even smaller and worse-equipped than his and she had no mercenaries.

  He would hate to see her country laid waste, almost as much as Terragand. Maybe Gwynneth and Arian were right, and it made sense to take the fight straight to Olvisya. He sighed and shifted in his saddle, wondering about Landrus’s letter. It was unusual for him to be so brief and so vague. He wondered if Julia had come back and was causing trouble. But then he would have said the trouble was at Heidenhof. Kendryk couldn’t and didn’t want to imagine yet another problem.

  Braeden